It all started with Passion 2013. I think the Lord has been on this quest to bring me back to life, and I left Passion thinking about His breath and my dry bones. Well, loving words and art and poetry like I do and realizing, once again, that all the inspiration I have in my life comes from God, I was chewing on this idea of dry bones.
Dry bones... they're brittle.
Dry bones... they're dead, right?
Dry bones... they're dusty.
But I wanted something new. I wanted some new perspective, some new way of seeing dry bones that could inspire me to write something or create a painting of some sort. So, on the way to school Friday, I asked the Lord for a new way of looking at dry bones, and then I parked my car, and I walked into the building. And, among hordes of arriving middle schoolers, I fell. What, you ask? I fell. Oh, not a dainty fall to my knees. No, a limbs-flailing, ankle-bending, tights-ripping, coffee cup-flying, shoe-skidding, did-you-hear-that-cracking fall. Kids screeched to a halt around me: "Are you ok?"
"eh. Yes. FINE. :) thanks."
But I wasn't fine. The nice looking (incidentally) doctor across the street took x-rays and said, "It's a fracture, but it's hanging on nicely."
Boot?
Yes.
Running???
No.
CRUTCHES?
Yes. For about two-weeks probably.
My life spun around me as I imagined two weeks of sitting on my butt: stuck. It's funny how life works sometimes. I haven't been on crutches since middle school. I asked for a new perspective on bones, and I guess I have it! One little crack in the wrong bone and my all-too-independent life is hijacked. One freaky and unexplained fall, and I realize that I'm pretty alone, and I'm not as good at being alone as I thought.
But I'm getting pretty good at navigating stairs on crutches. Thank you, apartment building. My right thigh/bum will be amazing after two weeks. Let's not talk about the left.
Boot. Cracked. Metatarsals.
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